Unexpected Find
by potterfanxp123
Summary: No longer a one-shot. Answer to tumblr prompt, "Kate runs into Johanna at Rick Castle signing" set during "Flowers for Your Grave." Final Chapter Uploaded, see Author's Note at bottom.
1. Unexpected

Unexpected Find: A Castle Fanfiction

Potterfanxp123 (William F.)

 **Disclaimer** : I don't own 'Castle', any and all likeness to the characters within are owned by ABC Studios, and were created by Andrew Marlowe, and Terri Miller

Kate Beckett took a deep, calming breath as she opened the door to the "Storm Fall" launch party wishing, not for the first time tonight, that she was here to get an autograph. As with most of her Monday nights, however, that was not the case. Two hours ago, the body of Allison Tisdale, an heiress turned social worker, was found lying in her bed, nude except for the blanket of flowers that covered her.

For the hazel eyed, brunette, lead detective of the 12th Precinct, it was a fear-inducing reminder of the fragility of life. All those years ago, when she and her father had returned home only to find Detective Raglan waiting with what was the worst news of her life, it was the author she'd come to question whom had inadvertently saved her life through his words. And, in a true sense of irony, it was the very same book, "Flowers for Your Grave" that saved her life, and had inspired the killer to kill the victim.

Her eyes searched the crowded rooftop party, and found the author, Richard Castle, chatting with ex-wife number two, and current publisher, Gina Griffin. It was as the author separated from his publisher, that she saw her chance to strike. She gathered her courage, and violently suppressed her fangirlish tendencies, before walking through the throng, a stern expression on her face.

"Mr. Castle," a voice that had haunted her memories for ten years called out from behind her. She froze, tears filling her eyes. The author turned, a pen in his hand, as he said, "Where would you like it?"

She felt someone moving past her, and suddenly her breath hitched in her lungs, as she caught a scent that she'd missed these past ten years. Unbidden tears came to her eyes, and she choked back a sob, as years of suppressed emotions fought to bridge her walls. And suddenly, a book was in his hands, and the author was asking the woman her name.

Kate clenched her eyes shut as the answer came, as she knew it would, "Johanna Beckett."

Anger. Pure unbridled. Agonizing in its intensity. All consuming, vengeful rage.

Grief. Irrational, unbalanced and excruciating in its fathomless never-ending glory.

She never heard the sob that escaped her, neither saw the face that spun to see what was happening, nor did she feel the hand that tangled itself into her hair, pulling her into a shoulder.

Suddenly it was too much, and she pushed away, out of the arms that she had dreamt of for ten years, suddenly too shocked, too _hurt_ to let the woman that had abandoned her all those years ago provide even the smallest measure of comfort.

Suddenly, as if the thought had triggered some unseen switch, her tears were gone, the rage lifted, and a cool, detached calm settled on her, stilling her nerves as she turned back around, unsurprised that her mom was still standing beside the writer.

"Mr. Castle," she said, ignoring the hurt that flickered across her mom's face. The author fanatically looked between her mother and herself, looking uncomfortable in the situation, as the redheaded teenager behind him raised her head. "Detective Kate Beckett, NYPD. We need to ask you a few questions about a murder that took place tonight."

Suddenly, a surprising gleam entered his eyes, and he smirked, a giddy look on his face. The teenager shook her head, took the pen from his hand, and patted him on the shoulder, giving him the lightest kiss on his cheek before she turned back to the book that Kate had only just noticed on the bar counter.

She then turned away, doing her best to bind her brittle emotions, even as her mom's voice said, "Katie?"

She clenched her fist, but before she could say anything, she blurted out, "Why don't you go grovel to dad before trying to get on my good side, mother? I have a murder to solve."

Then, she led the author away, even as behind her she heard her mother break down.


	2. Kidnapped?

Chapter Two:

She knew it was wrong as soon as she left the rooftop soiree. She could feel the weight of the world lifting off of her shoulders even as a stronger, more damaging weight settled on her heart. She could feel her breath coming in short spasms, her heart racing, and her hands starting to shake, all the while she attempted to stop the tears from flowing down her cheeks.

It wasn't as though she was unhappy to see her mother, alive and well. For all of the last ten years, in fact, that was all she wanted. But, as soon as she heard Johanna Beckett's voice, smelled her perfume, and saw her face, she was overcome with an inescapable fury.

Even now, sitting in the front seat of her Crown Victoria, attempting to ignore the curious gaze of the author in her back seat, all she could feel is a deep-seated betrayal. So much of her life had been dedicated to finding her mother's killer, and bringing them to justice. She'd put her life on hold, ignored opportunities, given up her dreams, all for a falsehood.

And her dad. Her dad had become an alcoholic in the wake of her mother's supposed death. All of the sudden, a fresh wave of anger, of grief, filled her and before she knew what was happening, she'd pulled the car over, unbuckled her seatbelt, and gotten out.

She looked down at her wrist, where her father's watch had rested all these years, and suddenly the weight of it was overwhelming as the memories of years past flowed through her memories.

Her dad. Oh my God.

On instinct, she pulled her phone out of her pocket, and was halfway through calling his number when it rang. She looked down, just staring at her phone in confusion. Esposito.

She answered on autopilot, not hearing, uncomprehending.

She had no idea how long she stood there, just staring in incomprehension, only brought out of her trance by her phone ringing again, this time ignoring the call as she made her way back to the car. The phone rang for a third time, before, in irritation, she threw it behind her. She ignored the groan of protest that echoed around her, as she turned the starter, and shifted the car into gear.

She had no idea where she was going, no idea how long she'd been driving when the phone rang for a fourth time. She ignored the echoing voice that shattered the silence around her, and the street signs, and the honking of horns from cars behind her. She had no idea how long she'd driven. Or how far.

Finally, though, the car ran out of gas. And with a shuddering breath, a racking cough, and a sudden whimper of anguish, she threw the car door open.

"Detective Beckett," a masculine voice drew her attention, and with a sudden jerk of her head, she turned, and paled. Her eyes grew wide, and a horrified expression filled her face as she ran forward and jerked the door open, allowing her captive to exit the vehicle and stretch his legs.

"Where are we?" she asked hesitantly, her eyes closed in embarrassment and a whimper of exhaustion slipping through the cracks of her façade. In the few seconds she'd had to look around before her embarrassment settled in, she hadn't properly taken in her surroundings. Hopefully, the author had, or she'd really be in trouble. Though she daren't look at the man she had essentially kidnapped.

To her surprise, she felt a comforting hand on her shoulder, and a firm pull, as his arms encircled her lithe, still shaking frame, even as she felt one of his hands stroking her hair. Her sobs echoed around them, and she could feel his shoulder getting wet as his shirt soaked in her tears. She could feel her legs getting weak, from hunger or whatever else.

"We're on McClellandtown Road, outside of Uniontown, Pennsylvania."

She froze in horror, finally opening her eyes. To her disbelief, a roguish smile covered his face, as he said, "I have to admit, if I'd known being kidnapped would end in me holding a beautiful woman, I'd have done it years ago."

She felt her face flame from the shame.

"I," she started, tensing even as she steeled her resolve, "I'm sorry Mister Castle. I know an apology can't make up for it, but I am, and I can only ask you for your forgiveness. I'll plead no contest if you decide to press charges…"

"Rick," he absently invited, seemingly ignoring her attempts to apologize. Her eyes widened, and she pulled back, locking gazes with him, searching for something, before she said, "Let's find somewhere to eat, and I'll explain what I can.

He nodded, "There's an Exxon about a mile back. You can explain on the way there." Then, he seemed to take a deep breath, before handing her a phone, hers. She took it and said, "How did you get my phone?"

He chuckled and said, "You threw it at me."

Paling, she sighed, "I'm never going to live this down, am I?"

"No," he quipped, before dropping his arms from around her. Kate sighed, and said, "It was January 9, 1999. We were supposed to go to dinner together, my mom, my dad, and I. And she was supposed to meet us at the restaurant, but she never showed. "

She paused, looking up and locking gazes with him a second time. Then, steeling herself, she said, "Two hours later we went home, and there was a Detective waiting for us, Detective… Raglan. They found her body. She had been stabbed. She still had her money, her purse, her jewelry. And it wasn't sexual assault… they attributed it to random gang violence. A random, wayward, event."

"And you, what, dedicated your life to solving her murder?"

She nodded. The author sighed. Kate said, "My dad took her death hard. He's sober now, five years. I, I wear his watch in honor of the life I saved. And," she pulled her necklace out of her shirt, and took it off, holding it, and the ring attached, in her hand, "And I wear this for the life that… I thought… I lost."

Then, to his shock, she drew her hand back to throw the ring. On instinct, he stopped her, grasping her wrist, gently taking the keepsake from her, and pocketing it, before she could over think things. She didn't struggle, even as he placed his hand on her shoulder. Kate's shoulders sank, a moment later, and she could feel the anger, the frustration, the urge to flee, returning. It was only the comforting presence of the man whom she had kidnapped, which kept her safe, sane.

Talk about irony.

They made it to the Exxon in an hour, her feet blistering from the combination of sweat and the jagged ground. To her shock, the author was gracious, insisting on paying for the tank, and the gas, before offering to go get the unit. She was hesitant, but when he pointed out, rightly, that she'd had enough stress for the day, Kate really couldn't find it in herself to argue. At this point, with the sun starting its descent, she really wanted nothing more than collapse.

Humiliation and grief were bitches to deal with.

So, as she watched the author heading down the street, she sighed, and pulled out her phone, absently making the call she'd been putting off all day.

She dialed the number from memory, listening as the hard, unforgiving tones of her father greeted her. He sounded bad, she could hear the grief in his voice even as he greeted her, his tone broken and empty. A sudden weight settled on her chest, fear. Fear of the bottle, of the man her father was after her mom's supposed death.

"I want a drink," he admitted after he'd finished self-deprecating, "I want so much to go to your Aunt Theresa, or Joe, or to the local bar, forget all about Johanna Beckett. And then, I hate myself all the more for it, Katie. She said she ran into you."

Kate barely acknowledged his lead-in. "She was waiting in-line at a book signing. I'm so sorry, dad."

She heard him catch his breath, a slow, shuddering, wracking cough expelling from her father's lungs. "NO," he protested, "this is in no way your fault, Katherine Houghton Beckett. Your mom is the one in the wrong, right now. She's the one that needs to make amends, admit that she was wrong. Grovel. All that said, I still love her, Katie."

She closed her eyes, clenching her fist, "I do too. I'm just… I had a panic attack after I saw her, ended up outside of Uniontown, Pennsylvania before I got turned back around."

"Are you alright?" he asked automatically. She blushed, "to make matters worse, I was bringing in a witness for questioning, and forgot all about him being in the car. I don't know if he tried getting my attention, or what, but so far he's been really accommodating."

She heard her dad gasp, and say, "Well, I think the greatest thing about this, is now you can give up solving her murder, even if you never forgive her, you can quit hiding now. Maybe even ask the young man in question on a date? Something. Anything?"

She scoffed, but blushed, before checking the watch on her right arm, and looking up. The sky was dark now, the lights of the small, Pennsylvanian town the only things allowing her to see the street. She got a sudden, clenching, feeling in her stomach, as she realized the author had been gone for almost an hour, the entire time she'd been calling her dad, at least. Just as she was about to hang up, though, her unit pulled up, and the author got out, before walking to the gas pump, placing his card in, and getting enough fuel for a return trip, and filling the reserve up too.

She made here goodbyes, then, telling her dad she'd call when she got back to the city. She was out the door before her dad made his own.


	3. Return

Chapter Three: Final

As the car pulled out onto the road, Detective Kate Beckett sighed, her world-weary expression flitting between humiliation and grief. If this had been any other circumstance, she'd play it off with well-placed innuendo. But, even though the man wasn't a complete asshole, he was still a person of interest in her murder case.

He was sitting up front, beside her as she explained the case that had first brought him to their attention. And like she expected, he'd immediately asked to see the pictures, called it the red badge of honor. When she explained that they had one more body, Marvin Fisk, and described the scene as "right out of 'Hell Hath no Fury', he'd chuckled and said, "I have a fan."

And she knew he was talking about her, could feel it in her bones, but couldn't help what came out of her mouth next, "A deranged fan!"

"Oh you don't look deranged to me, Detective," he'd said, lacing the word detective with as much lust as possible. She'd almost put on the breaks, but then looked at him, and realized.

"This bothers you," she said softly.

"OF course it does, I have a copycat! Someone is staging their murders to look like my fictional crime scenes!"

"That's why we need your help, Mister Castle. Sometimes criminals like to reach out to the object of their obsession."

"Yes I know, I'm well verse in psychopathic methodologies, it's an occupational hazard. I'll have Gina and Paula send over all of the mail when we get back to the city."

She'd sighed, "I can call ahead, and have my team get started if you want to make that call now."

He looked at her, and shrugged, before pulling his phone from his pocket. As she watched, he very calmly told the person on the other end to just send all of his fan mail to, "Detective Beckett, NYPD" the he looked and she said, "12th precinct," which he then repeated.

"No Gina, I'm fine. I'm not under arrest! Really, you don't know my safe word, after our, albeit brief, marriage? God, you're impossible. Just leave it, Gina."

A few seconds later, she could hear the shouting on the other end, until he snapped his phone closed. Kate's eyes widened, and he looked at her, "I apologize for you overhearing that. Word leaked that I was led away at the book launch and hadn't been seen since. There's a rumor going around that I'm under arrest for murder."

"We'll issue a statement saying that you're voluntarily helping the NYPD catch a killer aping your books," Kate promised. He nodded. "I'll need to be there when it's issued, so my more sane fans will continue to purchase Storm Fall."

She scoffed at the man beside her, but said, "Is it really that important that your fans buy your books?"

He looked at her, and said, "Well, I don't know. You tell me?"

Kate laughed. "Sure, keep telling yourself that, Mister Castle."

"Rick," he invited again, now that she was more lucid. Kate smiled, "Kate. At least until we get to the precinct."

"Of course, Kate. May I ask if you've talked with your dad, yet?"

"Yes. Dad was upset, but he's still in love with my mom. I'm sure, given the chance, he'd take her back in a heartbeat."

"And that bothers you," he rejoined her question from earlier. Kate flinched, "It shouldn't, should it, Rick? I mean, she's my mom and he's my dad."

"She faked her death." Rick said, "Something was going on in her life that she didn't feel she could trust her husband, or daughter with, so she decided to cut and run. I'd guess she's in Witness Protection, but under the circumstances, I don't think that's the case."

"Yeah, that's what makes this whole thing exhausting. She's either in WitSec and decided to cut and run, or she's been living under an assumed identity, and my running into her was a mistake."

Rick sighed. "I don't have the answers for you, Kate. But, if you need anything, anything at all, you can come to me. I'm making this offer to you, no strings."

Kate smiled, nodded and sighed.

AN: And that is the final chapter of this story. It turned into a three-shot, and I'm just not sure where I can go with it, that evitascarlett hasn't already been. This was never an attempt to outshine her. Apologize, and Redemption were the inspiration, along with a prompt. Thank you.


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